Touch Too Much
by Roadhouse Writer
Summary: post X3, begins with the scene at the end of the film with Bobby and Rogue. For now, the Cure is in effect for Rogue, no powers! eventual romance, etcetc. Read if you enjoy Rogue/Logan.
1. Fool To Cry

**Disclaimer: I do not own nor have ever owned Wolverine, Rogue or the Xmen, regardless of how unbelievably sexy I find Hugh Jackman (a girl can dream). This story is not for any sort of financial gain, but purely for my own and any possible readers' entertainment. So that aside, read on!**

_"Fool To Cry"_

"This isn't what I wanted," Bobby's face was almost mournful as he looked down at her.

"I know," Rogue told him. "It's what _I_ wanted."

He didn't say anything; she still couldn't believe the feeling of his skin touching hers. To be able to feel the texture and heat of his skin was like nothing she'd imagined. The feeling was incredible, knowing she couldn't hurt him simply by holding his hand.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again. "Rogue…" he began hesitantly. "You've been gone a long time."

"So?" she demanded. "Bobby, why won't you look at me?"

He finally lifted his eyes to hers, his expression one of guilt and sadness. "I assumed you weren't coming back, after all you went through."

"Why wouldn't I come back?" she frowned, nonplussed. "I came back for you. I fixed everything! Everything is fine now; we don't have to worry about my skin anymore. It's not an issue!"

"Yeah, I know, it's just," he stammered, "Things have changed around here since you left. You didn't even say goodbye!"

Rogue didn't have an answer for that. She knew she'd left him in the lurch, but at the same time, she'd half hoped Logan would have told everyone what she had gone to do. She thought Bobby knew how much her mutation tore her up inside, how the limits it put on her made her half-mad with misery. She thought he'd understood.

He dropped her hand, and she felt the absence of his touch almost like a kick to her stomach. "What aren't you telling me?" she asked quietly.

"Kitty and I…" he sighed, clearing his throat slightly. "We're together. We have been for a while. I'm sorry, Rogue."

"No," she whispered. "_No_! I did it for _you_! It was always for you!"

He half-shrugged; his expression was almost pitying. "You know I never asked you to do that."

"Of course you didn't!" she screamed, anger rising up in her throat, threatening to choke her. She tried to shove the emotion away, to no avail. "You didn't have to! I thought you _loved_ me!"

"I'm sorry," he said again, taking a step backwards. "I'm so sorry, Rogue."

"No, you're not," she said bitterly. "Just get out."

He didn't move, just raised his hands, as if to try and placate her.

"Get _out_!" she screamed at him, grasping for something, anything. Her hand landed on a vase of flowers sitting on the windowsill just as he left the room. Heaving it after him, it shattered into a million pieces on the back of the door, leaving a pile of broken glass and wilting flowers on the floor.

It shattered just like her heart had shattered. She'd seen the way they'd looked at one another, seen how they spent so much time together. Rogue had left, thinking that everything could be normal, back to the way it should have been, if only her mutation was gone. Of only they could actually touch, if only…

It was useless. She knew somewhere deep inside that he had been a lost cause almost the minute he'd first set eyes on the perky girl who could walk through walls. That realization didn't stop it from hurting, didn't stop a thousand knives from piercing her stomach, heart, and lungs, until she couldn't breathe with the hurt of it. She'd wanted to feel, wanted to be able to touch another, but now all she could feel was hurt.

She sat heavily on the edge of the bed, a bed that she really didn't even think of it as hers. It was so anonymous, almost like a hotel. She'd never bothered to personalize her room like other girls had. The walls still had their ambiguous artwork, watercolors of nothing in particular, the flowers she'd ruined, the dark blue bedspread that was identical to a hundred others in the manor.

Flopping onto her back, she tried not to cry, but the tears came anyways, coursing down the sides of her face and thoroughly wetting the duvet in two little puddles. She just tried to breathe, to loosen the band of hurt that was wrapped around her chest.

At the end of it all, had any of it ever been worth it? Traveling all those miles, riding on bus after bus, having to endure all the protesters, all the hecklers, the jeering, hateful people who sometimes even threw things at her, like eggs and rotten fruit. Or the worst, rotten eggs.

And then, of course, the people who gave her the shot, who wore sterile white gloves and expressions of barely contained disgust, as if they could only just bring themselves to touch her. Like she was diseased. Like she was a freak.

Even if she hadn't felt that way before, those horrible doctors in their long white coats and cruelly clinical gazes would have made her start to feel that way about herself.

As if mutants didn't have enough self-esteem issues and stupid prejudices to deal with in the first place.

God, she hated bigots. Her father was one.

Closing her eyes, Rogue breathed deeply, letting the hurt and disappointment wash over her. It had to get better. She couldn't feel this bad forever. She prayed she couldn't feel this bad forever.

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><p><strong>Reviews? Let me know what you think...I'm not always the best at wrapping chapters up.<strong>


	2. Beast of Burden

**A/N: I had a really hard time writing Logan, so I do apologize if he seems somewhat OOC (obviously I'm not a man, and have never been nor will ever be a man, so trying to write as a man is a definite challenge). But aside from that (probably needless) disclaimer, onward with the story...**

_"Beast of Burden"_

God, he felt like he had a thousand pounds on his shoulders. So he kept running. He didn't know what he was running from, only knew that if he pushed his body hard enough, if his heart pumped more and more blood through his veins to his screaming muscles, maybe it would make some of that weight go away.

Branches and leaves swiped at his skin, opening scratches and gouges that healed almost immediately. His feet pounded the ground; mindless at the twigs and sharp rocks he landed on.

His breath sawed in and out of his lungs. The next moment, he bounded into a clearing, startling a herd of deer. As a reflex, his claws came out; he relished the familiar slide and pull of pain as his bones shifted to accommodate them.

_Does it hurt…?_

_Every time._

The Wolverine inside of him reared its head and he roared, leaping at the largest buck in the group, sinking his claws into its warm, pulsating flesh and tearing. He bared his teeth, growling as he practically dismembered the deer, relishing the relentless flow of blood as the deer's struggles started to weaken, until its large body went limp in his arms.

Breathing through his mouth, he let it fall to the ground, sinking unsteadily to his knees. Gazing at its lifeless body, he felt his throat start to close up, until he was choking on what he finally realized were sobs.

He didn't really know why he'd killed it. It was a total waste of life, one that could have been spared, if only he hadn't been quite so bloodthirsty.

As he started to come back to himself, he violently pushed away the memories that were threatening to surface, memories of red hair and eyes that pleaded with him one moment, and turned nasty and calculating the next.

Memories of burying his claws into her…_oh, God_…

He let the anger take hold of him, the anger the only thing that would drown out the sadness. Letting The Wolverine take control left him at peace. He didn't have to feel; he just existed.

Rearing his head back, he roared, so loud that the leaves on the trees surrounding the clearing shook.

The wind whipped through Logan's hair as he accelerated down the highway, the late afternoon sun piercing through the tree line and causing him to squint.

Granted, the journey through all of Ontario and New York to Westchester wasn't the best on a motorcycle, but he was already halfway there. He completely ignored the posted speed limit, choosing to ride at a steady pace between 90 and 100 miles an hour. After all, if he crashed, he was able to get up and walk away, and the road was nearly deserted anyways. He'd passed maybe six cars in as many hours, most of them logging trucks and the like.

He was determined to reach at least the border before nightfall.

He wasn't sure why, but he had this compulsion to go back to the school. He didn't really _want_ to, too many bad memories, too many reminders of Jean and how fucked up his life had become, but at the same time, maybe it would bring him closure.

He would have sworn he could hear the Professor's voice whispering in the back of his mind, telling him what do, except for the fact that he'd seen him die. Psychics didn't contact people from the grave, at least not in his experience.

Guilt was gnawing at him uncomfortably; he knew rationally that they could use him at the school, and he'd all but skipped out on all the kids. Hadn't even left so much as a note.

Even though he would never admit it to her, he was looking forward to seeing Storm, and Colossus, not to mention Rogue. He hadn't said goodbye to any of them, and he kind of missed the old gang. Not that he even knew if Rogue had come back. Last he'd seen of her, she'd been walking away from him, going to get that goddamned "cure." So full of determination, so desperate; it made his heart ache.

It was weird, but running around the woods hunting had grown old. He finally felt sort of ready to face everything that had happened.

Gunning the throttle, he pushed the bike faster. All of a sudden, he couldn't wait to get where he was going. The sun set on him as he continued on his way.

The sun was just cresting over the tops of the trees when Logan rode past the gates, seeing the huge manor rise up in front of him. He released a breath, the gravel crunching beneath his tires as he pulled to a stop underneath the porte-cochere. He flipped down the kickstand with a boot and stood, stretching out his stiff muscles.

Scanning the area, it seemed almost deserted, but then he looked at his watch. It was nine in the morning; most of the kids would be in class, not roaming the grounds.

He slung his pack over one shoulder and went up the steps, walking through the doors and into the foyer. He stopped, frowning, but almost immediately felt himself relax. The air was still and quiet, and he could only just hear the muted sounds of voices in rooms off of the main hallway. The carpets smelled recently clean, and when he sniffed, he detected lemon Pledge on the staircase railings.

God, he was starving. He dumped his rucksack on one of the benches up against the wall and ambled to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he pulled out an apple and snagged a knife from the block on the counter.

It always amazed him that there would be knives stored so openly at a boarding school, but then again, he supposed, a lot of the kids here could inflict worse than a stab wound with a single thought. It was all in the perspective, he thought as he cut a slice and munched on it.

He found the latest newspaper sitting on the kitchen table. After pouring himself a cup of coffee from what was left in the pot, he shucked his leather jacket and sat down to get himself reacquainted with the world he'd distanced himself from.

"Logan!" Storm's surprised voice exclaimed from behind him. "This is certainly a surprise!"

He turned and stood, grinning at her. "Hey, there. Thought I'd drop by."

"And after all this time…" she smiled and crossed her arms good naturedly. "I had to come and investigate because a little bird told me there was a large man sitting in the kitchen drinking the coffee I made this morning."

He chuckled. "It's good to see you."

"You too." She came and gave him a hug, pulling back and gazing at him shrewdly. "Now. What brings the big bad Wolverine all the way back to our humble abode?"

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I dunno…I guess I just missed this place," he mumbled.

Storm's expression was a little too knowing, but thankfully, she didn't press the issue. "C'mon, I'll let you get settled in. I think your old room is empty, and you can go ahead and park your bike in the garage."

He cleared his throat. "Actually, would it be alright if I maybe had a different room? It's just…"

She didn't let him finish; probably knowing he didn't want to explain. She knew him too well, he thought wryly. "Of course. There's plenty to choose from."

She left him alone to unpack, making some light joke about having to get back to her "head honcho" duties, which he chuckled at.

Standing at the window of his blessedly anonymous dorm room, Logan sighed. He gazed out at the manicured lawns and frowned. It was good to be back; it felt better, more right than he'd expected it too.

His stomach lurched when he saw the three matching marble memorials, and he quickly looked away, not wanting to be reminded. The Professor's grave was fine, one to be respected and honored, but the other two…he didn't even finish the thought, instead turning away from the window and going back downstairs. He needed a distraction, and he was still hungry, so he guessed it was time to find more food.

**Reviews? ...I'll bother you with my views on what "The Wolverine" actually is at a later date. You don't need to listen to me rant right now. Sooo, review instead! K thanks.**


	3. Rock and a Hard Place

**A/N: Just a short one this time, I felt the need to establish why Rogue does actually stay...I've recieved so many alerts for this story, and I just want to say that it's so appreciated. I'm glad people are enjoying the story :-D**

_"Rock and a Hard Place"_

Rogue stayed because she had nowhere else to go. Even though she technically wasn't a mutant anymore, Storm hadn't said anything about kicking her out. Come to think of it, that sort of thing was probably against the Professor's initial intent when creating the school in the first place.

Besides, it wasn't like she had any applicable skills, and any money she'd managed to save was long gone after her little jaunt to Worthington Labs.

So even though it was practically torture seeing Bobby and Kitty, especially when she happened upon them together, she stayed. She stayed because she would rather be at the manor looking around every corner for her ex and trying to resist the impulse to stab Kitty with something jagged and sharp, than be out in the world, desperate and fending for herself.

The lesser of two evils, in a way; both alternatives sucked though, which contributed to her altogether foul mood and kept her isolated, away from most human interaction.

It was like getting rid of her mutation had in turn made her issues with other people worse, tenfold.

Awesome.

* * *

><p>Rogue was surprised when Storm called her into her office one morning, but she went, knocking quietly and slipping inside.<p>

"Good morning," the older woman said kindly, smiling at her from behind what used to be Professor Xavier's desk.

Rogue just nodded, sitting down in one of the plush chairs in front of the large desk.

Storm got right to it, clasping her hands and resting them on the wood surface in front of her. "I'm going to be frank with you. I don't want you to feel in any way that you aren't welcome here anymore, just because you aren't technically a mutant."

Rogue stiffened. Great. She'd been dreading this conversation for the last few days.

"However," Storm continued, "I'm fearful that you are feeling that way. I also think that you could be invaluable when it comes to teaching the younger children, especially when it comes to those who weren't here to see the XMen at their peak, or who never met the Professor."

"I'm not sure I quite follow," Rogue frowned, slightly puzzled as to what Storm was getting at.

"I want you to stay on indefinitely and be a teacher. Subject of your choice, of course, but I want you here." Storm gazed at her evenly.

Rogue felt her eyes begin to fill with tears and quickly brushed them away. She couldn't believe the incredible kindness Storm was showing her.

"Yes," she said, in a voice far more confident than she actually felt. "Yes, of course. I would love to…"

Storm seemed to sense the unspoken "but." The woman just waited, cocking her head slightly at Rogue.

"You don't have to start right away," Storm smiled after a minute of Rogue grappling for what to say and coming up short. "Whenever you're ready will be just fine."

Rogue nodded. "Maybe history?" she said after thinking about it for a moment. "Or English. I've always loved books."

Storm looked pleased. "I'll give you plenty of time to think about it and decide. Let me know whenever suits you." She turned slightly to look at her computer in what Rogue recognized as a subtle dismissal.

"Oh, and Rogue?" Storm called after her as she went to the door.

"Yes?"

"Please do feel you can call me 'Ororo,'" she smiled gently.

Wow, okay. "Then thank you…Ororo." Rogue smiled wryly as she left, the name still feeling strange on her tongue.

A teaching post, huh? Who would've thought? She shook her head as she walked away from the office that, oddly enough, seemed to suit Storm almost as much as it had suited the Professor.

**Reviews? Anyone, anyone? I'd love to hear from you.**


	4. Mixed Emotions

**A/N: Wow, sorry it took so long for an actual Rogan/Logan scene...I don't normally write that many scenes in build-up. Thank you so much for the reviews, Oblliterator1519, desy, and Laani26, it's much appreciated. Anyways, enjoy!**

_"Mixed Emotions"_

Rogue swept her hair off of where it had fallen on her slightly sweaty forehead, feeling pleased as she gazed at her room. She'd completely stripped it of any accoutrements it had had when she had arrived back, and was envisioning what she wanted it to look like when she was done redecorating. Several paint swatches were taped to the wall opposite the large picture window, which she had flung open with the drapes removed.

Tapping her lower lip contemplatively, she squinted. Sighing, she gathered up the folded linens in her arms and headed for the laundry room. She would wash the sheets and then return them to where the spare sets were kept in the basement.

A thorough exploring the day before had revealed to her many parts of the mansion that she hadn't previously realized existed, such as the ever-so-convenient servant's staircases and back hallways scattered about with well-hidden accesses. She'd taken to using them to get around, rather than the higher trafficked elevators and main hallways.

It was easier that way.

Today, though, she was impatient, so she took the elevator down to the basement level. As it dinged and the doors slid open, she froze in shock.

"Logan!" she exclaimed when she was actually able to speak.

His head came up from the file he was reading, eyes widening. He grinned. "Hey, kid. How are ya?"

Rogue was sure she looked like a fish, with her mouth gaping open, but then she laughed and stepped out of the elevator. "I'm just fine. What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. Just came to visit, I suppose. Storm said I could stay…" his brow furrowed slightly. "But I thought you left. Why'd you come back if you got the…"

Her facial expression must have halted his words, but to her, her features felt frozen. She had to clear her throat before she could get any words out. "It's a long story, but I suppose you could say I'm _cured_." God, she didn't sound that bitter, did she? She hoped not.

His eyes swept her face. "You're kidding. You mean you can touch people now?"

She just shrugged, feeling the oddest sense of hurt at his words. She'd thought that maybe he saw her past her mutation, but maybe she was wrong.

She was surprised, therefore, when he stepped closer to her.

Logan reached up and grasped her face with both of his hands, his large palms and fingers dwarfing her delicate bone structure. He just couldn't help himself; he had to know if it was true.

His eyes widened in wonder when he failed to feel that all-too-familiar drain, the dreadful siphoning of his energy that normally occurred whenever he came into contact with Marie's skin for too long.

Now, all he could feel was the amazingly soft texture of her skin, like rose petals, as well as the soft pounding of her heart. He swept his thumbs over her cheeks, his callused skin contrasting sharply against hers. As his eyes continued to roam her face, her cheeks warmed as she blushed prettily.

Her eyes shifted downwards, and she made a slight motion as if to pull herself out of Logan's grasp.

"Oh, sorry," he said gruffly, dropping his hands from her face to hang at his sides. Clenching his fists for a moment, he resisted the urge to latch right back onto that beautiful skin, wherever she would allow him to touch her.

Only, he had to remember that it wasn't all that socially acceptable for a grown man to go around stroking a girl's skin all the time, especially a pretty one like Marie. If he did that, some passerby might get weirded out and call the cops on him, and wouldn't that just be the fantastic cherry on top of the shit cake his year had been.

"That's alright," she said quietly, still not looking at him. "Excuse me, I have to get these to the laundry" she smiled gently, turning and walking swiftly away from him, but before she rounded the corner out of his sight, he called after.

"It's good to see you again, Marie."

She stopped and looked back at him, her expression one of recoil. "It's Rogue. Please don't call me Marie."

He frowned. He would have insisted, except for the pain he saw in her eyes at his mention of her old name. "Why?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Because nothing has changed," she stated simply. With that, she left him, disappearing quickly.

He could still smell her though, in a trail left behind her as she walked. She even smelled like roses, the soft perfume mingling with the sharp tang of her misery, lingering in the air and teasing his nostrils.

What had happened that made her so sad?

Logan resisted the urge to growl. He'd bet a pretty penny it had something to do with that obnoxious icicle kid. The Wolverine nudged at him, making him clench his fists and shake away an uncomfortably enticing vision of him with his fingers wrapped around Bobby's windpipe. He'd find out from someone, and also find away to sweep away the shadows lingering behind.

He remembered making her a promise, years ago on a train. He'd promised to take care of her, whether she thought she needed to be protected or not. It was a promise he intended to keep.

**I'm not too ashamed to start begging for more reviews...so, please? **


	5. Start Me Up

**A/N: Okay, so yeah, finally some actual Rogue/Logan interaction...sorry for the long wait, everybody! So here we go...**

_"Start Me Up"_

Rogue relished the sweep of the paint roller as the wall she was working on was steadily covered with a pale yellow. It was a color that she much preferred over the ubiquitous taupe the room had started with.

"Need any help?" came a deep voice from the doorway.

She jumped, nearly startled into falling off of her stepstool. "Oh, hey Logan…"

He's poked his head into her room, carrying what looked like a week's worth of snacks.

"Hungry, are we?" she lifted an eyebrow, nodding her head towards his cache.

He just quirked up one side of his mouth. "Restocking my stores. I get hungry in the middle of the night."

She just laughed, shaking her head and going back to her painting.

"So, _do_ you need any help?" he asked again from behind her.

Rogue sighed. "Sure, why not? Grab a roller."

Logan dropped his food on her drop cloth-covered bed and shed his flannel shirt and shoes, walking over barefoot in only jeans and his customary wife beater.

They worked side by side the rest of the afternoon, speaking sporadically but mostly remaining silent. It was a comfortable silence, though, Rogue noticed, one without the normal awkwardness she normally felt around others.

That had always been Logan's way, though, hadn't it? He never made her talk, never tried to push anything until she was ready, always let her take the lead and do things the way she wanted.

She appreciated it more than he would probably ever understand.

Finally, as the sun was setting over the treetops, they finished on the last wall. Standing back, she smiled and sighed happily.

"If you leave the windows and the door open overnight, it'll be dry by morning. Unless you're gonna do another coat," he looked at her in askance.

"Not unless you think it needs it," she shrugged.

He shook his head after a moment. "Naw, you've got pretty good coverage with just the one."

She nodded, twisting a piece of her hair between two fingers absentmindedly.

"What else are you going to do?" he inquired after a minute.

"Hmm?" she looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"You're obviously redecorating," he gestured at the room with a hand. "What else are you changing?"

"Well, I was going to get new linens, and definitely a new duvet cover. Something different than that god-awful navy blue," she wrinkled her nose; he chuckled softly. "I was also going to wander the halls and look for some different art to hang."

He nodded. "When were you going to go shopping?"

"Sorry?" she frowned at him; that was definitely not a question she'd expected him to ask her.

"Well," he shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's still pretty early. If we grabbed a bite to eat first, I could take you. Those sorts of places stay open pretty late, don't they." He shrugged. "Not that I would really know. I doubt if I've stepped foot in a department store a day in my life."

Or at least the life he could remember, Rogue mused. "You would do that for me?" she said quietly.

He scoffed. "C'mon, don't you want my opinion? Besides, you need new curtains, and clearly I'm the resident expert on window dressings," he teased her lightly.

Rogue felt herself blush slightly, unsure whether he was flirting with her or not.

That would be not. Because that would be absolutely ridiculous.

"Ok, then…" she shrugged.

"We should probably change first," he motioned at their paint-splotched attire.

She nodded.

Shopping with Logan? She felt strangely honored, thinking that she was probably one of the few people in the world who could claim the experience of Logan accompanying them to a department store.

She doubted _Jean Gray_ had ever gotten him to go shopping with her…Whoa, okay, where on earth did that thought come from? She almost laughed at herself, but found herself having to wipe the most ridiculous smirk off of her face as the two of them parted for a wardrobe change.

* * *

><p>"What about this one?" Logan suggested, pointing to a display of a pink and orange set. The colors kind of made him want to stab at his eyes, but he wasn't altogether sure of Marie's taste.<p>

She just shot him a look, and kept walking down the aisle, looking at all the options.

Thankfully the store was relatively empty, being after dinner on a Tuesday; he guessed that this wasn't the most popular shopping night of the week. He wrinkled his nose at all the different, and mostly artificial, smells.

He resisted sending a growl in the direction of a young looking male employee who was stocking some shelves; the boy's eyes lingered a little too long on Marie's pale shoulders and chest for Logan's liking. He did level a medium-sized glare at him, which the boy seemed to sense, meeting his eyes for all of a split second, before gulping and hastily averting his gaze.

Logan had to admit, Marie looked beautiful, dressed even simply as she was. Her hair was loose and waving over her back, and the navy blue v-neck blouse she wore bared all of her shoulders and upper chest. For once, her long, elegant arms weren't encased in black opera gloves. He knew she must love being able to show even a modest amount of her skin, after having to cover it all up for so long.

He'd even be willing to bet she'd gone so far as to burn a lot of her old clothes.

He knew he would have if he were in her place.

"Ohhh," Marie breathed softly as she went over to where a display bed was made up with a soft lavender hued set. The duvet cover had large white flowers embroidered onto it, what he would have guessed at being an orchid. She sat on it, bouncing softly, then flopped back, smiling.

"I love this one," she looked up at him. Logan swallowed with some difficulty, knowing she didn't realize she was involuntarily arching her back as she twisted her body slightly. She wasn't trying to be coy with him; he was just a sick bastard and took everything she did the wrong way.

"Okay." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Um, so you like this one. What about curtains?"

She gave him a funny look, sitting up. He almost felt like she was seeing right through him, her gaze was so penetrating.

"Right. Curtains," she said with a half-smile.

They ended up getting the purple bedding, as well as a set of gauzy white curtains that were light enough to move in the wind but still blocked some light when they were drawn. Or, so the saleslady said. Marie also picked out a few knick-knacks, like a vase she liked, and a picture frame that was decorated with pearly shells.

Luckily, Marie had been smart enough to bring the measurements of her window with them, something Logan would never have thought to do in a million years.

He was glad to get out of there, because the fluorescent lighting was starting to give him a headache by the time. She just rolled her eyes and called him a baby when he winced slightly, complaining.

They were walking up the steps to the manor when Logan had a thought. "Who's picture are you going to put in that frame, Ma—Rogue?" he caught himself, and saw her notice with a tiny wince.

She shrugged, sighing. "I don't know. Maybe one of…" she smiled slightly. "Maybe one of you and me."

He grimaced, rolling his eyes. "I don't take very good photographs, but you can do your best to try."

She laughed lightly. They'd reached the bottom of the staircase. "Thank you, for this," she said quietly, not quite looking at him.

He put a finger under her chin, making her meet his gaze. "I am and will always be your friend. Don't you ever forget that."

She nodded. He couldn't resist trailing the back of one finger down her soft cheek before stepping back and shooing her up the stairs. "Good night."

"Good night," she called back before disappearing from his view.

He shed his leather jacket and went to the kitchen. God, he needed a beer. Spending the entire evening with Marie and managing to keep his hands off of her had just about frayed every last nerve in his body.

She drew him to her like a magnet, one that he couldn't resist, one that he didn't _want_ to resist.

But at the same time, he so badly didn't want to hurt her. He wanted to heal her. The Lord knew how fast of a healer he was, but he needed to find a way to fix the hurt inside of her.

**Subtlety is really not my strong suit...if you could just scroll down there and push that _review button_...please?**


	6. Emotional Rescue

**A/N: So I guess this chapter ended up being way shorter than I originally intended, but I'm not very good at the angsty stuff. It all needed to be said and get out of the way so the story could go on...I know this is a relatively quick update, but I want this story to actually go somewhere...**

_"Emotional Rescue"_

Rogue was half-heartedly watching television when a hand landed on her shoulder. She acted on instinct, her entire body flinching away from the contact.

"It's just me," Logan barked from behind her. "Jesus," he muttered.

"Oh," she frowned, looking around at him. "What do you want?"

He looked at her with a funny expression on his face for a moment. "Nothing…I just wondered if you'd show me your room? I haven't seen it yet with all your new stuff."

Rogue cocked her head at him. Her room? She didn't understand why he was all that interested, but whatever. If he wanted to see it, she'd show it to him. "Okay," she shrugged.

"Okay," he frowned at her some more. Maybe he was feeling grumpy. Or maybe in his absence she'd forgotten how surly he always looked.

He dogged her footsteps up the stairs, until they reached her door, which she opened for him. He cracked a smile as he walked in.

Rogue did have to admit, it looked much nicer than when she'd started. It fit her personality a little bit more, too. She loved the purple bedspread and how is went with the soft yellow walls, and the curtains were the perfect weight. The window was open to let in some fresh air, because the room still smelled vaguely like paint, and the curtains waved gently in a small breeze.

"Very nice," he said. Turning back towards her, Logan held out a hand.

Ignoring it pointedly, she tucked her hands into her pockets and took a few more steps towards him.

"Marie," his voice softened.

"Don't," she shook her head, "Please, don't even…"

His frown deepened. Rogue sat down on the edge of the bedspread.

* * *

><p>Logan knelt down in front of her. The wary look in her eyes just about broke his heart. When he took her hands, she tried to tug them out of his hold, but he resisted.<p>

"Please," she whispered. "Just let me be. Why can't you just let me be?"

She wouldn't even look at him.

"Marie," he said firmly. "Look at me. It's me. It's Logan. I'm not going to hurt you."

"But it does hurt," she said quietly, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. She sniffed, "it hurts when I touch people."

"Why?" Logan watched as tears ran down her face. Her breath hitched in a sob, and he wanted nothing more than to gather her up in his arms and never let go. From the moment he'd met her, she'd always tried to come across as tough as nails, and most of the time he let her think that he believed that, but that scared young girl who had run away from home all those years ago still came through sometimes.

"Because the Cure? It was pointless," she closed her eyes. "It's just hopeless. I'm even more of a freak than I was before I left. Now I'm the girl who gave up being a mutant for someone who didn't even want her in the first place."

"And I don't think he will ever realize what a good thing it was that he threw away," Logan growled. "You listen to me, you are in no way inferior to those jackasses. In fact, you're pretty much the queen of them all. Who cares what they think? They've never had to go through what you have. What _we_ have."

She sniffed, her watery eyes opening to meet his. Regardless of her tears, that streak of steel that he loved shone through at him. "Do you really mean that?" she asked softly.

"Every word," he said firmly, squeezing her hands. Before she had a chance to protest, he gently began peeling the thin silk gloves she wore off her long, slender fingers. "You should never have to wear these again," he said fiercely. Throwing them over his shoulder, he intertwined his fingers with hers. "See? Nothing."

Tears coursed down her cheeks as she slid her fingers out of his grasp, only to reach out and touch his face. She traced his features lightly with her fingertips; the Wolverine shifted, wanting to feel her hands everywhere, but Logan suppressed the urge, closing his eyes and basking in the feeling of her skin touching his.

"Thank you," she breathed, grasping his neck and leaning her forehead against his. They both opened their eyes; Logan felt like she was looking straight through him, right to his very soul.

"I should warn you," she said after a moment, "Now that you've let me touch your skin, I'm probably not gonna be able to help myself. It feels…so very much more amazing than I ever could have imagined."

Logan just chuckled, making her smile in response. Oh, Lord almighty, if only she knew how much he wanted to grab a hold of her and never let go. "Naw, I wager that's only _my_ skin," he protested. She giggled, a sound he relished.

When she went to pull away from him, she lingered, almost as if she was hesitant to let him go. But she did, sitting back on the bed.

Biting her lip, Marie stared down at him. "Would you like to go get something to eat with me?" she asked all of a sudden.

Logan grinned. "Absolutely." As if on cue, his stomach growled, and they laughed together as they walked out of her room and down the stairs.

They took the main staircase this time; no more hiding, Marie said.

Logan couldn't bring himself to agree more.

**I'd love to hear from any of you, even if it's only to say hello :D**


	7. Respectable

**A/N: Forgive me if the fluff factor turns out to be too high...I couldn't resist writing Logan's softer side. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I know I enjoyed writing it :-)  
>Also - my updates might seem really fast, but I have the rest of the chapters basically finished, and I can't wait to start on my next idea! It came to me at about 1'oclock in the morning, which is, of course, the best time for brainstorming :D<strong>

_"Respectable"_

Rogue couldn't stop touching Logan. It was seriously as though some sort of dam had been broken. Every chance she got to clasp his hand or wrap her fingers around his arm, she would. Sometimes, if he let her, she would trace the veins that ran up and down his arm with a finger.

She couldn't get over the concept of someone else's skin. His was warm, soft in some places, rough in others, and the most amazing thing? She could his heartbeat. She could literally feel the blood pumping through his veins just underneath the surface, and there wasn't a single time she touched him that it failed to amaze her.

The two of them had a comfortable rhythm to the way their days went. Rogue was happy with her teaching position. Her class was American History, with an emphasis on Mutant History. She loved it all, including all of her students. Younger mutants she'd previously felt somewhat estranged from, she now felt a connection with.

Logan taught shop; it was endlessly amusing to Rogue that somehow he'd managed to find an actual job where he could spend all day tinkering with his motorcycles. He would just roll his eyes good-naturedly whenever she teased him about it.

They would eat together at every meal, Logan still being the only other person at the mansion Rogue was completely comfortable around. A loner himself, he admitted to her that she was one of the only people who didn't make him want to scream, tear his hair out, and simultaneously sink his claws into something. She took that as a compliment.

Sufficed to say, teenagers with attitude problems were not Logan's favorite people in the world. Children, he was fine with. She actually thought it was adorable whenever he spoke with or helped the younger mutants. A different side of him would shine through, one a little less terse and a little bit softer than the persona he showed the rest of the world.

Sometimes, she caught him staring at her, his eyes darkened by something that she wasn't sure she was quite prepared to identify. Her hair seemed to be a favorite plaything of his. Often when they sat with one another, he would mess with it, winding a strand around a finger, or simply twisting pieces of her white streak together.

They were rather like an old married couple, she supposed, and Rogue realized she had never been happier than at this point.

* * *

><p>Logan absently scanned an article about motorcycle maintenance, his hand stroking Marie's hair almost of its own accord. They were in the common room and she was curled up against his side, head on his shoulder as she read a novel.<p>

He breathed her in, laying a cheek against her hair, smiling slightly. She still smelled like roses, only without that horrid pang of misery she used to carry around with her. He supposed he could say he was happy, which was a hell of lot different than how he would have ever described his outlook on life at any other time before now.

It was Marie. She'd changed, for the better. Quicker to smile and easily able to laugh now, she brightened his entire day from the time they ate breakfast together to the time they said goodnight at the top of the stairs. He didn't really even mind that their relationship continued to be completely platonic; of course, aside from all the touchy-feely stuff, but it's not like he was complaining.

Okay, so naturally, there was that part of him, that very male part, that would have done anything to be with her in _that_ way, but she meant so much more to him than just great sex. Oh, he knew that sex with her would be fantastic; it would be physically impossible for it to be otherwise, he was so attracted to her.

But for now, he was completely content to be her best friend. She needed a best friend, someone to be there for her no matter what happened.

The afternoon sunlight coming in through the first-floor windows was making him rather sleepy when all of a sudden he felt something wrap around his leg. His jump of surprise jolted Marie off his shoulder, and she gave him an annoyed look, resettling herself.

"Sorry," he said as he reached down. He had a feeling he knew what was happening. Sure enough, a little giggle came from the patch of thin air down by his knee, until he felt around and grabbed the little body with his large hands.

A small child with brown ringlets materialized in his hands, a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"Hello, Hadley," Logan cocked an eyebrow. "You felt like sneaking up on me again?"

Perhaps the most adorable five-year-old he had ever met (not that Logan had met a whole lot of five-year-olds over the years, but still), Hadley's current favorite game was to turn invisible and sneak up on him. She got a serious kick out it, and was nearly always rewarded by Logan with some sort of treat; this was partially because he was amazed she had such concrete control over her powers at such a young age.

She also sort of made him melt; she was that cute. He couldn't help it. What could he say? He was a sucker for big brown eyes.

Hadley nodded enthusiastically, sticking her thumb in her mouth

Hoisting her into his lap, Logan said "Very funny. You got me again."

Settling her little body against his chest, she demanded, "What do I get this time?"

Marie _tsked_. "Manners," she murmured, repositioning her head against his shoulder and going back to her book.

"Sorry," Hadley promptly said. "I mean, what do I get this time, _please_?"

Logan laughed outright at that.

"C'mon, squirt, let's see what we can find in the kitchen." Squeezing Marie's hand, he smiled at her as he stood, hefting Hadley into his arms. "We'll be back in a bit."

She smiled warmly up at him, nodding and looking back at her book. Logan felt a sort of tug in his chest when she looked at him like that.

Marie watched as Logan loped away into the hall, carrying the giggling child in his arms. Hadley wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her little head on his shoulder as they went, and her heart practically melted.

Things felt…different with Logan now. She loved that he respected every single boundary, spoken or unspoken, that she'd put into place, between the two of them, but at the same time, she felt her heart skip a little whenever he gave her that smile that belonged only to her.

He never looked at anyone else the way he looked at her.

She remembered back before everything had happened, when he was still in love, or should she say, lust, with Jean Grey, and when she was still with Bobby, how she had had such a crush on Logan.

But with the Cure, and that final, horrific battle, and then Logan leaving, it had faded, until she'd really only seen him as more of a big brother type of guy.

If Rogue were being perfectly honest with herself, she'd say that old crush was back in full force.

There were moments, when she touched him, even casually, when a warm flush would spread over her skin. She'd panicked on the inside at first, thinking it was her mutation re-manifesting itself, but when it kept happening, she realized that it her body reacting to his.

Because, come on, the man was majorly fine.

Not only that, but he'd begun to get along well with the others in the mansion, and he doted on her. There wasn't a single time when, if she needed something, he was right there to help.

Rogue bit her lip, her gaze wandering over to the view from the large picture window. It was a beautiful day outside, the cool-ish spring weather having finally surrendered to full-blown summer.

It seemed to reflect her feelings perfectly. Abandoning the comfortable couch, she walked down the main hall to the kitchen; through the doorway, she saw Hadley perched on the counter, throwing a grape at Logan's head. The girl was laughing uproariously, kicking her feet in delight. He retaliated by tickling her stomach with his long fingers, until Hadley shrieked.

Rogue leaned her head against the doorframe; the thought coming to her that Logan would someday make a fantastic father. She sighed.

Logan scooped up Hadley into his arms, the girl clearly starting to droop from tiredness. Seeing her, he smiled and put a finger to his lips.

"I'm gonna take her upstairs," he said quietly. "Wait for me? We can go for a walk outside while the sun's still shining."

Rogue just nodded, that funny seizing feeling happening again in her chest as her eyes followed Logan up the stairs.

Okay, so maybe it could be categorized at a _little_ bit more than a crush…

**reviews? anyone? anyone?**


	8. Hot Stuff

**A/N: I'm a horrible self-doubter and had to re-write this chapter at least 3 times to be anywhere near satisfied. So I hope you like it.  
><strong>**Also, just a side note; I use the lines for both skipping ahead in time, and to switch POVs, just in case anyone was getting confused...  
>AUGH! I feel like a horrid person for not thanking everyone who's reviewed! It's much appreciated, and I love hearing what you guys think. Thank you all for every single review, and all the storyauthor alerts and adding me to your favorites lists :D**

_"Hot Stuff"_

Logan came half-awake, with just enough awareness to kick his bedcovers off. For some reason, he was boiling. Sure, it was mid-June and the weather was warmer, but it usually cooled down at night. He'd opened the large window in his room for that very reason. He would have left the door open, but he didn't usually wear many clothes to bed, and Ororo discouraged the mansion's occupants from showing too much skin.

God forbid one of the teenagers walk past his open door and see him without any clothes on.

Waking up even more, Logan froze, sniffing carefully. There was someone else in his room.

His body instinctually relaxed when he smelled the all-too-familiar scent of roses. Marie was in his room. Wait, what the hell?

He opened his eyes and looked around, seeing her by the window. He sighed quietly. The moon was bright enough that it shone through the window, illuminating Marie's figure. In fact, it made the nightdress she had on practically transparent. Coupled with the brown waves of hair tumbling down her back, the sight of her made his heart stop.

"Marie?" His voice was all gravelly, still thick with sleep.

Her head turned to look at him over her shoulder. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she smiled softly.

Logan sat up, rubbing his eyes. "No…but, what are you doing in my room?"

"I couldn't sleep," she explained, turning back to the open window, "and the view from your window was always more beautiful than mine."

"Oh." He swung his legs out of bed and went to stand with her. After a moment, not able to help himself, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and she leaned back against his chest, sighing.

Logan felt himself slipping off into a half-doze and realized it was stupid to just stand there when there was a perfectly good bed a mere few feet behind the two of them. Pulling away, he took her hand and tucked her into the bed, following her onto the soft mattress. It was no surprise that both of them slipped off to sleep in what seemed like seconds.

* * *

><p>Rogue woke slowly, awareness returning to her foggy mind in slow increments. She was weirdly comfortable, and much warmer than she normally was in her own bed. She remembered not being able to sleep and going to Logan's room, but after that it was a little fuzzy.<p>

Oh, shit, did that mean she was still…? Opening her eyes slowly, she was met with the sight of Logan's sleeping form next to her. He was sprawled on his stomach, one arm wrapped around her midsection. He was still breathing deeply, all but dead to the world. No wonder she was so friggin' warm; his body radiated heat like a space heater.

She stayed silent, taking the opportunity to observe him as he slept. He really was gorgeous. The scowl he often wore was absent, his face peaceful. His sideburns needed a trim, which she probably would have found time to tease him about later in the day regardless. He twitched every so often, various muscles standing out for a second before he relaxed again. She almost laughed when he huffed out a breath, moving her hair and tickling the side of her face.

She ran her fingers lightly over his arm that lay over her, humming softly to herself.

So this was what it felt like to wake up next to the Wolverine; granted, judging by the fact that they were both still clothed, they hadn't gotten up to any mischief last night. _Too bad_, she thought for a minute, but she tried to quickly push that reaction away.

Nevertheless, it was a nice feeling, having him beside her like this.

* * *

><p>Logan opened his eyes, woken by the feeling of Marie touching him. He smiled lazily, the Wolverine purring in approval at waking with her practically in his arms. He stretched slightly and resettled himself, completely comfortable.<p>

Her head turned to look at him. "Good morning," she smiled.

"Good morning," he murmured. They just gazed at one another for a moment, the quiet of the bedroom—a bedroom, he realized, he would love to refer to as _theirs_—as of yet an uninterrupted by the general cacophony of the rest of the mansion. They were in their own little bubble for the time being.

Marie was drawing little circles on his arm with one finger, raising goose bumps on his flesh even with the simplest touch. He saw her eyes darken with what he could only describe as desire; he held his breath in disbelief as she leaned closer, her lips a mere hairsbreadth away from his. He could feel her breath ghost across his face.

She hesitated, seeming to ask his permission to continue. Logan took matters into his own hands, closing the gap between them and kissing her softly.

Marie inhaled and grasped his cheek, angling her head to deepen the kiss. Logan thought his heart would stop; she threw a leg over his hip, rolling him over to straddle his body. She all but attacked him, not that he was complaining.

Logan's dominant side reared its head; he grabbed her around the waist and rolled her onto her back, covering her with his body as he kissed every inch of bare skin he could find. God, she even _tasted_ good. And, he was so going to hell for even allowing this to happen between them…

Not that he really cared right at this moment. Marie was making little moaning sounds in her throat and her dark hair spilled across his pillow that looked positively angelic in the weak early morning light coming through the window.

Logan was very aware of the fact that the only thing separating him from her naked body was a flimsy cotton nightdress, the thin straps of which were already starting to slip from her pale shoulders. It was for this very reason he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. She tried to pull him back, but he resisted.

"Logan," she moaned. The sound of his name coming from her lips at this moment nearly undid him; his body ached for him to bury himself inside of her and never let go, but he did his best to maintain what little self-control he had left.

"No," he murmured. "This is not a good idea…"

Marie's eyes turned pleading. "Logan," she moaned again.

He rolled off of her, sitting up and rolling his neck in an attempt to loosen his tension-filled muscles. His blood was pounding and the Wolverine was egging him on for all its worth.

"_Hmmph_." He felt her sit up and scoot back against the headboard. Looking back at her, he saw her with her arms crossed over her breasts and sporting a very irritated expression.

"Don't be mad at me, darlin'," he said apologetically.

She just gave him a look and slid out of his bed. When she went for the door, however, Logan reached out and snagged her hand, pulling her back towards him.

"Marie…"

"What?" she snapped; it was then that he saw the tears swimming in her eyes.

"Oh, god, darlin', no, I'm not saying _no_…" he pulled her into his body, until she was in his lap facing him fully. He brushed her hair away from her face gently. "I'm just saying not right now, at this very moment."

"So it's not that you don't want me…?" Marie asked tentatively, that young woman afraid of her own body peeking through in her brown eyes.

Logan chuckled. "God, I don't think I could want you _more_. You're my everything," he growled, delighted to see her reward him with a smile. "But when I do make love to you? Oh, you just wait…I'm gonna do it nice and slow, proper like. " His smile grew at the very thought.

She gave him a little groan of what he took to be longing. Kissing her once more softly, cupping her face in one hand and savoring the softness of her lips, he then urged her to stand.

"Go," he shooed her. "We have classes to teach." He glanced at the electric clock; it was early enough in the morning so that she could get back to her own room without too many people seeing her in only a nightie.

She gave him a little sway of her hips as she sauntered out the door, blowing him a kiss over her shoulder.

Logan groaned, falling back onto his rumpled bedcovers.

She was going to be the death of him. But what a fine, slow death it would be…

**Let me know what you thought?  
>Oh, and I doubt I've mentioned this, but a *virtual cookie* to whoever can tell me the significance of my chapter titles...(because I'm so unoriginal when it comes to that sort of thing and have to filch titles from another source :P)<strong>


	9. Brown Sugar

**A/N: So...I'm starting to wrap things up in this story. This is probably the second-to-last chapter. But fear not! I have another totally dynamite story percolating inside of my noggin (one chapter already written, yay!). Of course, being me, I felt the need to write more Logan squee-able-ness (i just made that word up. sorry grammer nazis), so here you go.**

**Oh, and in a quick aside, FrackingShakespeare and Laani26 are the lucky recipients of my *virtual cookie* prize! Sue Doe Nyhm, of course you get one as well...there's plenty to go around...Lame, I know, but it's the best I can do over the internet. Sorry, guys :P**

_"Brown Sugar"_

Logan stepped out of the elevator as the door pinged, planting a well-chewed cigar between his teeth and shoving his hands in his pockets. He'd dismissed his students early today; they'd actually managed to figure out which piece of the engine he'd pulled out before their time limit was up. Granted, missing spark plugs was a relatively obvious problem, but it wasn't like they would have been able to get near figuring that out when he's first started teaching 'em about motors a month ago.

Not that he'd ever admit it, except maybe to Marie, but he was pretty proud of the kids. Even if their obnoxious teenager behavior generally made him want to gut someone with his claws, they were an all right bunch of kids.

Walking down the main corridor towards the common room, he did a double take when he saw a flash of red through the window in one of the classroom doors. Sweet Lord have mercy; Marie was standing in front of the chalkboard of her history classroom teaching, wearing a red blouse with a deep v-neck and no sleeves. It was the first time he'd seen her wear a color other than her normal shades of black, dark green and navy blue, and she looked absolutely stunning. Now if that didn't practically set his blood on fire…

Of course, not that she didn't _always_ look stunning, but the red popped against her pale ivory skin and dark hair. Logan gently eased the door open and leaned against the back wall, listening to her speak. She hadn't noticed him come in yet.

"…That was when Henry McCoy was appointed Secretary of the Department of Mutant Affairs," Marie was saying, pointing to a timeline on the board behind her. "At the time, there was a president in office who was surprisingly sympathetic to what most people referred to as the 'mutant cause,' not something all too commonly found in politics at the time. Or even now, for that matter."

She clicked something up on her computer, bringing up a picture of the furry blue mutant most of the adults in the mansion knew as "Hank," or "Beast." Logan chuckled inwardly, remembering his own usage of the name "Fur Ball" from time to time. Tuning back into what Marie was saying, he caught her say, "Mr. McCoy is actually going to be coming by to visit next week, and you'll all have a chance to meet him and ask any questions you might have about his time in office."

She outlined that night's homework assignment and cheerily called "class dismissed!"

Logan just stayed out of the way as the stream of younger mutants jostled past him, laughing and calling out to one another.

God, he loved how great of a teacher she was. It just came so naturally to her. Himself, he had to restrain himself from growling angrily anytime a student annoyed him far too often to be truly called a good teacher. He didn't have the patience like she did.

He cleared his throat softly to catch her attention. "Logan!" she exclaimed, looking up from the papers she was clearing off her desk. "I didn't even see you come in!" She smiled warmly at him, grabbing a chalkboard eraser and wiping the slate clean.

"Hey, darlin'," he couldn't help but smile at her. "Thought I'd swing by to see you. My class got out early."

"Skipping out early on those kids again, are we?" she winked at him. He just chuckled in response. Approaching her, he ran a knuckle down her bare arm.

"You look amazing in this color," he said quietly. Marie stepped closer to him, until she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes.

"I thought of you when I bought it," she practically purred, gazing at him from under half-lidded brown eyes.

Twisting a piece of her white streak around his finger, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips; she wrapped her arms around his body and pressed her body against his. Breaking off with a groan, he grinned when she stuck out her bottom lip.

"Do I need to remind you where we are right now?" Logan murmured.

She looked around, and then looked back at him, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Since when is the big, bad Wolverine the one with all the self-control?" she teased.

* * *

><p>Rogue waited, breathless with anticipation as Logan just looked at her for a moment, his eyes indecipherable. Then, before she could react, he'd swooped down and whispered hotly into her ear, "Just you wait, Marie. You'll see what happens when the big, bad Wolverine loses <em>all<em> his self control." He caught her earlobe between his teeth, pulling gently and sucking on it ever so slightly.

She probably would have fallen down if his arms hadn't been around her. The second his mouth touched her skin, her knees had turned to pudding.

As he pulled back, she blurted without thinking, "I think I'm in love with you."

Oh, God, she hadn't really just said that, had she? Rogue slapped a hand over her mouth. Great. Now he was gonna freak out and run away on his motorcycle and she'd never see him again because she had to go and be so goddamned stupid. Everyone knew the Wolverine didn't do feelings, and he sure as hell didn't do commitment! No matter how wonderful he'd been to her over the past few weeks.

His eyebrows snapped down into his customary frown. "Do you really mean that?" he demanded after a moment.

Well, she might as well be honest, right? There wasn't any point in pretending it wasn't true. She swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes."

Then he did something that surprised her. The glower disappeared, his hazel eyes softening. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She leaned her head against his chest and breathed him in.

"You know I'm crazy about you, right?" he said gruffly from somewhere above her left ear. "As in, I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I didn't have you around."

"I don't think you get enough credit for how sweet you are, Logan," she said quietly.

"Shush. The Wolverine is in no way sweet," he huffed. "Don't you go around spreading any rumors now, darlin'. It'd be bad for my image."

Rogue just giggled and held him tighter. "Whatever you say, Logan," she smiled and closed her eyes, happy to just be held. "Whatever you say."

**Thoughts?**


	10. EpilogueUndercover of the Night

**A/N: Heeey everybody...sorry for the slow update, school just got back in again and I seem to be ridiculously busy. I do always try to set time aside for writing, but it isn't always easy!  
>So I hope you enjoy this last installment of my story. This was the first multi-chap fic I <em>ever<em> wrote, and I think it turned out alright. Let me know. Thank you to everyone for reading, adding me to your various alerts/favorites, and of course all my absolutely fantastic reviewers. I love you all! KISSES AND HUGS GALORE. :D**

_Epilogue_  
><em>"Undercover of the Night"<em>

"Oh my god," Rogue gasped, flat on her back. She breathed deeply, trying to catch her breath as the sweat cooled on her bare skin. Turning her head sideways to look at Logan, she savored the sight of him all stretched out on her bed, broad chest rising and falling with each breath.

Sure, he'd said they'd go slow the first time, but he'd taken one look at her in the dark green lingerie she'd bought especially for him, and there was no controlling him. With a growl and a curl of the lip, he'd practically ripped her clothes off, laying hot, open-mouthed kisses on her lips as they fell back onto the bed.

From there, Logan had proceeded to take her hard and fast; Rogue had just wrapped her legs around his waist and held on for the ride. It had been so good; she'd felt like screaming. Although, now that she thought about it, she was pretty sure she had screamed his name once or twice.

Humming in satisfaction, Rogue rolled onto her side, kissing Logan on the shoulder. He looked at her with half-lidded hazel eyes.

"Sorry, darlin'…we can go slow next time," he said in a low growl, smirking at her.

Rogue just shook her head, laughing softly. Sliding a leg across his hips, she straddled his body, running her fingers through his messy hair and kissing him softly. "You can have me however you like, Logan. You don't see me complainin', do you?"

He gave her a growl, rolling over on top of her and planting kisses all down her throat. Rogue threw her arms around her neck. God, her man was perfect.

Suddenly, he pulled back slightly.

"You do know I'm not really the marrying type, right?"

Rogue cocked an eyebrow at him. "It's not exactly news to me."

He seemed to struggle to find the right words for a moment. "I mean, I don't want to stay here forever…when I want to leave again, will you—?"

She cut him off with a kiss, then rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You let me know when your feet are getting to itchy, and I'll come with you, wherever you decide you want to go."

He seemed reassured, smiling at her. Rogue knew he wasn't the type to settle down, even for her. She would never ask him too; that would be too much like trying to tame what was inside of him. Even though she had never really thought of him as an animal, she did know that he needed to roam. Wanderlust was part of who he was.

For now, they were in one place, and they were happy.

* * *

><p>Logan gazed across the table at Marie, watching as she sipped her coffee, scanning the newspaper in front of her.<p>

Glancing up at him, she smiled softly, giving him a little wink. He really didn't know it was even possible to love someone as much as he loved Marie. At the same time, he was getting a little tired of the same old song-and-dance routine of their life at the mansion. He felt that familiar pull to be back out on the road.

"Darlin'?" he said quietly.

"Hmm?" she looked up, setting her mug down on the wooden surface.

Logan didn't know how to ask. He knew she loved teaching, and loved being around all the children, but she _had_ said she would come with him if he wanted to leave.

She reached out with her hand, and he took it, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "What is it, Logan?" she raised an eyebrow in such a way that he knew he wasn't gonna be able to get out of telling her what was on her mind.

"I packed a bag last night," he said simply.

Her eyes closed for a minute, but then they were understanding when she opened them again. "I wondered when it was going to happen."

Logan just shrugged, feeling slightly sheepish.

Marie stood, folding up the newspaper; she held out a hand to him. "Come on. You can help me pack."

Later, when the two of them had said their goodbyes and Logan had stowed their gear in his bike, he kick started it. The rumble of the motor underneath his body was like meeting a long lost friend again for the first time. He grinned, gunning the throttle a little, just enough to make his baby purr.

"Hop on, darlin'," he called to Marie. She slid onto the leather seat, wrapping her arms around his middle. She gave Storm one last wave as he accelerated down the gravel driveway.

Well, wasn't that too goddamned ironic. As they turned onto the highway, they were met with the sight of the sun touching the horizon.

The Wolverine and his girl, riding off together into the sunset; he would have called it a proper ending, only he knew that with Marie by his side, they were gonna get a whole bunch of new beginnings.

_~the end~_

**...hopefully hear from you all again in a bit. Another Rogan story is on the way! I just have to write a few more chapters and figure out where it's going first. But I'll post it when it's ready. Thanks again for all your amazing love and support! Until next time,**

**~R.W.**


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